March 12, 2012

"Do you want to meet the butchers?" Heather asked me as we rounded the corner of the kitchen. In the middle of next room two men intricately worked knives into the ribs of a pig, severed in half and propped on a table. Its skin was carnation-pink, and its bones were clean as a whistle and creamy white. Yes. I wanted to meet the butchers.

Heather Sanford and Brad Marshall never intended to run a full-scale butcher shop and deli in one of the Finger Lakes’ most vegetarian-friendly towns. They started their organic pig farm seven years ago with the most modest of goals: to raise a few dozen pigs and make artisanal charcuterie on a small scale. That was then. Now, with a storefront called The Piggery on Route 13 in Ithaca, a CSA and 500 pigs, they’ve grown. A lot.

“Brad just does everything hog-wild,” Heather said with a wave of her hand and not the slightest hint of irony when I interviewed her at the shop this week. “The demand was there, so he just opened up a bunch of books and started learning how to butcher.” The couple had originally intended on crafting patés and sausages from their pigs, but quickly realized that it wasn’t the most economically viable business model. Besides, their regular customers were clamoring for more. “They’d say ‘This is cool, but don’t you have pork chops?’” Heather explained.

The Piggery goes through 8-10 whole pigs a week, selling those chops as well as tenderloins, ribs, bacon and lard in the butcher case on Wednesday through Sunday. They also sell sandwiches, tacos and other deli-style meals in the same location. Brad is the deli’s executive chef, creating sandwiches with their Mortadella (a faintly pink Bologna-style meat studded with pistachios), shaved ham and Piggeroni, a salami similar to a -- you guessed it -- pepperoni. Carnitas and pulled pork on Kaiser rolls and tacos are also big sellers. There’s even a vegetarian option featuring local cheese and vegetables, though it doesn’t get much playing time. “We should create a salad, I guess,” said Heather before pausing and shrugging. “Meh.”

The business has expanded so steadily -- doubling their number of pigs every single year - that The Piggery also sells beef and lamb from Autumn’s Harvest Farm in Romulus. “We do all the butchering,” Heather said, speaking to the three full-time butchers on staff. In April, they will also begin selling bread products from Fat Boy Bakery in Freeville.

Dealing in such large amounts of raw product means Heather and Brad have learned to be resourceful. The walk-in cooler showcases whole pigs hanging from hooks, as well as their heads, wrapped neatly in plastic and stacked in boxes. “We use their cheeks - so tender! Or we make guanciale [jowl bacon]. Or boil the meat down to make headcheese.” Heather frowned. “But the headcheese is pretty labor intensive, and it’s not such a big seller.”

Still, The Piggery doesn’t seem to be lacking in customers. The weekdays are typically a steady stream of regulars on lunch break, but the weekends bring an onslaught of tourists who have heard about the deli and butcher shop through Yelp, where it has garnered a collection of glowing four- and five-star reviews. On a Saturday, the shop will see 500 customers - easily. The place can feel packed, but rarely unpleasantly so. This is no doubt because of the quirkily effervescent staff (some of whom pop in on their day off to order a platter of tacos, as I witnessed.) I’ve yet to see see a customer given the tell-tale surly stare from a disgruntled employee, even when the line at the counter was eight deep. The staff maintains and openly demonstrates a sense of camaraderie.

“I’ll grab that!” Heather shouted during our interview, seeing a customer pull up to the drive-through. “Whoops, they're too quick for me. Too good!” she said a moment later, pushing her headset away from her mouth as she noted a staff member at the counter taking the order.

In addition to maintaining a hectic storefront, the Piggery also offers a meat CSA. Although they originally provided for both Ithaca and New York City, they have decided to eliminate the out-of-city shipping and focus exclusively on local customers. “We fill this weird niche here, in that Ithaca hasn’t had an independent butcher since the 1990s. We provide for people who want more sustainable meat - or who just want specific cuts,” she said, referencing an oft-heard request for more fat left on the bone-in chops.

CSA members and curious locals and tourists alike can’t help but pop into the deli. Its walls are painted a cozy rust color that was a holdover from the previous business, the Orange Blossom Pancake House. A large wall separating the dining room from the kitchen and butcher shop is painted chalkboard black and proudly displays, in bright colors, the local farms and food producers that The Piggery partners with. Pig trinkets, stuffed animals and toys are scattered around the shop, including two small pigs with wings that seem to have flown directly into a pole and gotten lodged there. The effect is at once whimsical and charming, not unlike Heather and Brad themselves.

“Even though we’re raising so many pigs now, I still love them all,” said Heather. “I work with them, play with them. They’re my babies. And this may sound weird, but every time we take them to slaughter, I thank them - for giving us food.”

This sentiment rings true for many of the customers. In Ithaca, where it can seem like many eschew meat, or at least require a sense of accountability attached to it, The Piggery is providing honest food cultivated with respect.

“I don’t know,” she said, clasping her hands together on the table. “Even though I’m running this - this business -- I’m still really just a farmer.”

February 27, 2012

Most celebrity chefs guard their secrets closely, denying consumers and fans their recipes and techniques. And why should they share? It’s their repertoire, after all. There’s a certain unspoken fear in the restaurant world that if clients can replicate dishes on their own, the banquettes and bar stools will slowly empty as home ovens steadily warm to a roaring fire.

The chefs in the Finger Lakes believe otherwise. For years, a core group of culinary professionals in the region have been teaching specialized and themed classes to laypeople, unraveling the mystery and mystique of their craft at 171 Cedar Arts in Corning one Saturday morning at a time.

This eagerness to educate grows out of a strong feeling of community within the Finger Lakes culinary scene. As a developing wine tourism region, there is still only a small handful of serious eateries and restaurants. Those involved feel a deep sense of pride not just in the food they create, but in the work of their peers as well. I asked Brud Holland, of Red Newt Bistro, if it was an unspoken rule for Finger Lakes chefs to participate in the program. Says Holland, who has been teaching with here since 1999: “There’s a natural tendency in how I cook to educate, so that part came very naturally. It seemed important.”

When Holland first started, the classes were – and still are – overseen by Neal O’Donnell, Director of the 171 Cedar Arts Culinary Program. The educating chefs originally taught at Sullivan Kitchen in Bath and then the World Kitchen Headquarters. The program finally found a home at 171 Cedar Arts Center, located at 171 Cedar St.

The organization’s website states its mission clearly: to “[provide] the community with a warm, friendly home in which to explore the arts.” The concept was implemented in 1968, and since then dancers, artists, musicians, thespians, athletes and cooks have found a home in which to practice their craft and teach the community.

The culinary classes are popular, perhaps in part because of the interest in food and wine that engulfs the Finger Lakes region. When chefs like Suzanne Stack of Suzanne Fine Regional Cuisine and Scott Signori of Stonecat Cafe are speaking, people listen. Each chef is given the freedom to create the menu they’d like to teach, and in what format. While the class themes encompass everything from vegan recipes to cooking with local produce, the general goal is the same: to raise awareness of what’s good, what’s fresh, and who’s making it in the Finger Lakes.

The current schedule of classes, held on Saturday mornings until May 5, has classes clocking in at three hours, running from 10am to 1pm. In a culture of 22-minute cooking shows, that’s a long time for a chef to teach. Holland admits that most chef-educators actually extend that time by arriving hours ahead of time to prep and prepare their mise en place. It’s also a long time for students to sit and watch hungrily as increasingly delicious smells waft up from the make-shift kitchen in the Drake House auditorium – but with samples and tastes passed liberally, no one ever seems to complain.

I attended a class on February 11, titled “Romance at Breakfast” and taught by chef Debbie Meritsky of the Black Sheep Inn in Hammondsport. (I had previously written a profile of her, here.) Her menu was ambitious, and included recipes for brioche, poached eggs with beurre blanc, scrambled eggs with caviar, grain-free granola and coeur a la crème, an almost savory dessert made from basket or cream cheese and dressed with raspberry coulis.

Each student was given a clipboard with copies of the recipes, so they could follow along and write notes. And that they did – for the first two hours, they wrote furiously, scribbling substitutions, tips and anecdotes from Meritsky in the margins. The atmosphere at the start of the session was timid and shy, though no doubt ameliorated by Meritsky’s boundless enthusiasm and O’Donnell’s colorful and ebullient presence. (Holland has referred to him, quite aptly, as the program's “consummate storyteller and emcee.”) By the time the mini brioche loaves were proofing on the back of the stove, students were calling out questions and murmuring to one another in the audience.

Two culinary students from BOCES had volunteered to help with the prep work. At one point, Meritsky asked a student if she had ever made a remoulade sauce. When the young girl shook her head, Meritsky handed over the ingredients and recipe and told her to demonstrate the process. “Just wing it,” she said.

A twitter and chuckle went through the audience, and then a sigh of relief that seemed to say, “It’s okay. We’re all here to learn.”

Not only is that the atmosphere in the culinary classes at 171 Cedar Arts, it’s the goal – for everyone involved. Says O’Donnell: “I enjoy seeing the chefs evolve into terrific instructors.”

The chefs teach in a make-shift kitchen cobbled together from old butcher’s blocks, tables and shelving units. The range is electric instead of oft-preferred gas, and access to running water is a few steps away in a prep area, but that doesn’t deter anyone from signing up to teach. Besides, says Holland, that’s just the way they intended it. “Back when we were like nomads, we were trying to create a mobile kitchen that could be packed up and brought anywhere.”

The result is a space that’s homey and eclectic. First-time and returning students feel a no-pressure familiarity when they realize that 171 Cedar Arts isn’t a stainless-steel wasteland of exclusionary cooking terms and techniques. It’s real cooking, by real chefs – for real people.

Curious home cooks can attend a class for $50 ($42 for members), and the three-hour instruction includes tastes and samples of everything made. To sign up for a class, call (607) 936-4647 or visit 171cedararts.org.

January 13, 2012

In a town steeped in tradition, there’s something decidedly new – and young – happening on the culinary front. Husband and wife team Chris Grilli and Katie Brennan, ages 28 and 26 respectively, purchased the decades-old establishment on Jordan Street in July of 2011, and have since been putting a modern spin on a classic repertoire.

Skaneateles Bakery has been in operation since 1959 and despite having changed owners a few times, still feels as authentic as it had when it first opened. The original recipes are still in use, from donuts and cinnamon rolls to generously-sized cookies and scones, and a few of the staff members stuck with the establishment through the change in ownership.

Brennan employs 15 staff members, an impressive number, given the petite size of the storefront and kitchen area, although most are local high school and college students working the cash register. “My mom works here too,” she said with a giggle. “She comes in a couple days a week to lend a hand.”

From the looks of it, many hands are needed to produce the amount of food they do. Not only do they pile their counter high with baked goods – Those scones! More on that later. – they also offer sandwiches on house-baked bread and soups, “made from scratch,” she said proudly. The biggest seller on the savory menu is a turkey sandwich with chipotle, avocado and applewood-smoked bacon. In terms of plain numbers, though, nothing comes close to the donuts.

If donuts can be grouped into genres, these would be vehemently old-school. No bigger than a tight fist and freshly made every morning, they taste of real sugar and cinnamon, a far cry from their mass-produced counterparts. They get snatched up by the bagful by hungry customers at Christmas time, when actors bring characters from A Christmas Carol to life at the annual Dickens of a Christmas festival. “But lots of people also buy food and walk it across the street to the water,” Brennan acknowledges. “Summer is really busy.” She took what sounded like a deep breath of relief. “Summer was really busy.” The bakery’s location in the heart of the village, directly across from Doug’s Fish Fry, makes for high traffic on weekday mornings and lazy weekend afternoons alike.

The newlyweds purchased the establishment from Sam Mason, original recipes and all, if not on a whim, then definitely with a prayer. Neither Brennan or Grilli had worked in the restaurant industry, Brennan said in a phone interview. And even more frightening, neither had owned a business. She was working with an interior designer (she now works full-time at the bakery) and her husband was a schoolteacher.

“But it was always something I toyed with,” she said. “One of the things I love about baking is that it allows me to be creative. I always thought ‘wouldn’t it be neat to own a bakery?’” Brennan’s father, settled in Moravia, thought so too. He felt a strong connection to Skaneateles Bakery, and passed that onto his daughter before he passed away. “Chris and I moved back to the area [from Boston] in 2010, and I kept a pulse on everything around me.” When the listing went public, they didn’t hesitate.

I visited with my boyfriend this past Sunday for lunch and a look around. An egg, cheese and bacon sandwich had character – no freakishly uniform eggs here – and a goat cheese salad came with healthy-looking red leaf lettuce lightly dressed in homemade vinaigrette. Café Kubal, a Syracuse-based roaster, provides the beans for coffee, and a variety of freshly-packed teas are available (The Earl Grey is excellent; a heady hit of bergamot.) The real kicker was the scone we ordered, studded with chunks of chewy dried apricot and with a distinct buttermilk biscuit-like texture. It was topped with a cautious drizzle of sugar glaze and was so good that we ordered another on our way out.

If the food seemed to resonate more with me than a typical bakery’s fare, I suppose it can be chalked up to the fact that Brennan just gets what’s trending in the restaurant and food world right now. “Local, organic, and fresh,” she said. “Our mindset is that the most important thing in serving food is that it be of high quality. Local and organic mean great quality.”

They already work with a handful of local farmers, growers and vendors, including Wake Robin Farm of Jordan, who provides the yogurt for their parfaits. When the weather warms up, Brennan has big plans to source local animal protein more fresh produce to round out their menu. “We support the community as much as we can because they really support us,” she said.

So they get the local and organic thing, which is undeniably important. But what I like best is the sense of whimsy and charm about the place. The menu is written on a chalkboard, with a gray, smudgy spot in the left-hand corner where a “Word of the Day” and its definition get written and erased again and again. The baked goods and sandwiches, if eaten in, are handed to customers in small wicker baskets and the employees’ feathers never seem too ruffled to chat. The menu is clever too – I spied a homemade Pop Tart, its belly swollen with homemade raspberry jam – and swooned. This is joyful food.

Brennan is such a chipper personality, full of optimism and excitement (she must be a morning person), that I found myself wondering if she’d run into any challenges or unpleasant surprises as a new business owner. “Being a boss is hard,” she said. “But honestly, and this may sound dorky, I really love my staff.”

She loves what she’s doing, too, and so does Skaneateles. In a town that can be tough to please, Brennan is having no problem becoming part of the fabric. The cupcakes, cookies and muffins that made the bakery famous will continue to shine while taking on a personality of their own. And that is what’s really sweet.

December 01, 2011

Seats still remain for what Red Newt Bistro is billing as "the wine and food event of the season." This Friday, December 2, Red Newt Bistro host a special dinner that will raise funds for the new Debra Whiting Foundation.

The cost to attend is a $100 donation to the foundation.

"Debra was a woman of passion," says Dave Whiting, owner of Red Newt Cellars and Bistro. "We were passionately in love, and she worked, breathed, and lived with a passion. This event is an expression in so many ways of what Debra lived and breathed while she was alive, and for me is a reminder of her legacy that each one of us has the privilege to share."

The theme corresponds to one of Deb Whiting's favorites: Five Times Swine. (Each course will have a pork theme, but vegetarian options are available.)

The money generated by this dinner will help launch the foundation, which has lofty goals. "I can't bear to think of looking at the Finger Lakes as the region that it is becoming without Debra continuing to be a part of it," Dave Whiting explains. "We would have rather had her here in person, but it's essential that the drive and spirit that her life embodied carry on in her absence."

The Debra Whiting Foundation will launch with several initiatives:

Scholarships

Scholarship venues will be offered at local high schools to encourage and fund students who decide to pursue further education in culinary and/or local agriculture programs.

Internships

An infrastructure will be built to enable and facilitate rich internship opportunities for students enrolled in college or university level culinary programs. The focus of these opportunities will be to bridge the disconnect that often occurs between what is prepared for the plate and where it came from. Connecting the farm to the table builds the appreciation of local cuisine, farms and families.

Apprenticeships

Offered to culinary professionals not currently enrolled in other educational programs. This multidisciplinary apprenticeship will focus on the integration of farm, table, farmer, chef and community. Engaging the apprentice in multiple aspects and situations of farm production, food processing and restaurant preparation will build an appreciation of the “what, how and why” of the locavore approach to cuisine and agriculture.

The dinner event begins at 6:30 on Friday, December 2. In lieu of attending this event, the foundation is graciously accepting donations.

November 22, 2011

If you’ve had any sort of connection to Finger Lakes food within the past ten years or so, chances are you’ve come across Samantha Buyskes-Izzo. She’s been cooking here since 2002, and since 2007 has served as the Executive Chef at Simply Red Bistro at Sheldrake Point Winery on Cayuga Lake, as well as at La Tourelle Resort and the Hangar Theatre in Ithaca.

It’s a fair assertion that she’s best known for her work at Sheldrake, where the bistro earned her a sort of cult following, attracting visitors from all over and curious local foodies. Samantha’s unique background -- she grew up in South Africa -- and elegant, thoughtful creativity meshed together there to elevate winery fare from an often boring paint-by-numbers meal to an exciting, complete dining experience.

She’s a standout chef in her understanding of spices and how flavors work together. A mountain of shaved carrot, studded with Moroccan spices -- cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger and cloves -- and moist with herbed cream cheese, piled high with sprouts on whole grain bread remains the best sandwich I’ve ever consumed. Each bite gave way to a gentle crunch and soft sweetness before finishing with a lingering heat. After finishing the sandwich and a lemonade sweetened with lavender syrup, I wasn’t just hooked -- I was inspired.

I’m not alone in this sentiment, so I know I wasn’t the only one to react with trepidation when Samantha announced earlier this fall that she was leaving the bistro at Sheldrake Point to pursue a new venture, Simply Red Events and Culinary Center at the Highland Lodge in Trumansburg.

I called Sam earlier this week to talk about what the change will mean for her -- and, selfishly, to inquire what it will mean for her fans like me. When I asked if, moving forward, getting a taste of her food would be as easy as ordering a sandwich at the bistro at Sheldrake, she paused and then laughed apologetically.

“Well, no. But it will be a better experience.” She went on to explain that while the bistro gave her an extraordinary opportunity to champion not just her food and flavors, but also the Finger Lakes region, it was restricting. “Only in that I couldn’t be a part of the experience from start to finish,” she said. “If a customer came to eat, I might be able to stop by their table and say hello, but not much more. I couldn’t guide their meal.”

Simply Red Events and Culinary Center will allow her that opportunity. The venture will invite curious eaters and cooks of varying expertise levels to explore all things edible in a more tangible, all-encompassing way. Cooking classes led by Sam will include trips to farms and food producers -- when the weather warms up a bit -- for truly a hands-on experience.

For those looking less to create a meal and more to just eat one, Sam’s dreaming up music and food social nights at the Lodge. “I have someone checking out the acoustics there,” she said in typical Simply Red fashion, highlighting a detail with nonchalance that many of us might have very well overlooked.

I refrained from asking her if she’d miss the bistro at Sheldrake. I figured it was a given, and indeed she stated she would; very much. Instead, I wondered why she ultimately made what must have been a very difficult decision.

“I need to contribute to this community in a way that is about me... but not about me.” She continued, explaining that what she does in the Finger Lakes is important because it is unique and creative, but it’s ultimately more about what Simply Red means to the region and less about Sam the Chef.

“All the accolades on the wall don’t mean shit,” she said, before letting a warm chuckle escape and admitting that she is thankful for each one, including a cookbook (Mama Red’s Comfort Kitchen) and an appearance on the Food Network cooking competition, Chopped. “That was great, but it’s not about becoming famous. Deb [Whiting] and I used to dream together about everything we’d do for the region, culinarily speaking. When she passed, it shook me. I needed to figure out what I was doing, and how I was contributing.”

She paused to catch her breath. “I have a rare opportunity here. What do I do with that?”

Well, if things go according to plan, she expands her reach under the Simply Red umbrella. The food will still be available at La Tourelle and the Hangar Theatre, and an all-encompassing culinary experience will be open to the public at the Highland Lodge after the official opening in January of 2012.

The concept for the basic classes goes like this: three hours, a three-course meal all paired with Finger Lakes wine. Each session is held together by a loose theme that serves to inspire the menu, rather than pigeonhole it. January’s for example, is to include spices that “entice and excite” the senses. February is about comforting, hearty foods, while March peeks at warmer weather with a spring-inspired roster of ingredients.

With a vision this big and a past so wide, I couldn’t help but wonder why she didn’t set her sights on a larger city. Her answer rang true.

“Everything just fell into place,” she said, reminiscing about her initial move to Podunk Road in Trumansburg (“Isn’t that great? I loved it.”) Sam, like so many fixtures in the area, found inspiration in the seasonal ingredients and sense of camaraderie among cooks, winemakers and food producers. Settling here was a no-brainer; the surprising part was what came after the restaurant. She never expected to be so enthralled by the idea of cooking classes but the longer she thought about it, the greater appeal it held.

As we wrapped up the conversation, I began to realize my concerns were unfounded. The Finger Lakes region has many more spice and seasonal-inspired meals to look forward to because Chef Sam isn’t going anywhere -- and neither is Simply Red.

October 27, 2011

I guess I had envisioned that chocolate making would be a quiet, relaxing sort of activity, zen-like and leisurely this past Saturday morning. But there we were, half an hour into it at 9:30, and the noise in the kitchen was so deafening you could’ve convinced me a train was running straight through the vineyard down below.

Cary Becraft had agreed to give me a lesson in dark chocolate technique at her production kitchen at Anthony Road Wine Company, where her husband, Peter, is Assistant Winemaker.

I’d had an inkling of what goes into a box of chocolates -- the word “temper” had crossed my mind -- but I definitely wasn’t expecting Cary to pound the molds against the stainless steel table again and again, her spritely frame producing a spine-tingling crash that reverberated throughout the room.

“Sorry!” She looked up, over her tortoise-shell glasses, and giggled. “It’s kind of loud.”

Cary is the owner and sole operator of CaryMo Chocolates, a gourmet chocolate and candy company based in the Finger Lakes. Chocolates are available at a variety of Finger Lakes locations, but your best bet is currently at Fox Run Winery, Zugibe Vineyards, or online at CaryMo Chocolates. Prices for her artisan chocolates range from $9 for a two-piece box to $40 for a 24-piece box. She also sells chocolate bars for as little as $3. Gift baskets and special pricing are also available.

She runs every aspect of the business, from flavor conception to chocolate production to packaging and selling. All this, in addition to working as a freelance stylist in the fashion industry, as well as taking care of her three-year-old son, Giles, gives her little time to rest. But Cary keeps it in perspective.

“I like being busy,” she said when I asked how she manages it all. And then she paused. “Well, I like being lazy too. But once I get going, I get into the groove.”

The way I see it, she hasn’t gotten out of the groove since her time as a pastry chef at the River Café in New York City. It was there that she learned the craft of making chocolates, and soon began selling them under the name CaryMo in addition to churning out desserts daily at the restaurant. Her confections earned a cult-like following, and soon she was selling at Stinky Bklyn, an artisan cheese and specialty food shop in New York, while creating custom orders for customers begging for her grey salt caramel chocolates.

She and her husband had made their life in Brooklyn, but when the opportunity arose to explore a new lifestyle on Seneca Lake, they couldn’t say no to the intrigue of starting over. Peter took a job working at Anthony Road and moved to the Finger Lakes, first living in an Airstream trailer outside the winery. Cary moved shortly after, and they made the transition to a bigger house.

There was never any doubt about whether her decadent, high-end chocolates could find a market in New York City. The question was whether she could attract a following in a much less densely populated area.

Fortunately, Cary found that the winemakers and restaurateurs in the Finger Lakes provided a backdrop that meshed with her vision almost seamlessly. Not only did she begin selling in local wineries, she began using Finger Lakes product in her chocolates. She’s experimented with beer, and one of the most evocative selections on her roster is a dark chocolate bite molded into a miniature wine barrel and filled with a caramel made of Anthony Road red wine.

That wine barrel mold was what was making so much noise that morning. Over the sound, Cary yelled to me, “I do this so all of the little air bubbles escape out of the chocolate.” I leaned closer and saw tiny bubbles rising to the surface of the liquid chocolate and popping, leaving behind a smooth, dark sheen.

I told her that she was patient and articulate enough to teach classes. “Yeah, but who would do this at home?” she asked. I thought back to earlier that morning, when she methodically melted chocolate over a double boiler, then took it off the heat and stirred it until it was cool to the touch: tempering, she had explained. It did seem like an awful lot of work.

But she sure did make it look fun. As she explained that tempering the chocolate makes for chocolate that’s slick and shiny, not granular, she plopped dime-sized discs of dark chocolate into the big mixing bowl. “My chocolate ice cubes,” she said with a grin. “They’ll melt into the liquid and cool it down further. The big companies do this with a huge machine" -- she made a grand sweeping motion with her arm -- “but I temper by hand.”

She does it by feel, too, dabbing a smear of melted chocolate onto the skin above her upper-lip every few minutes, giving herself a jauntily comical moustache. I wagered that the patch of sensitive skin helped her better gauge the temperature, and while she agreed, she didn’t place too much significance on it. “It’s just how I learned.”

After tempering the chocolate, polishing the plastic molds with cotton and cooling a thin shell of chocolate in each one, we were ready to fill them. Her flavors are constantly evolving and changing, and that day we were working with red wine reductions from both Anthony Road and Zugibe, peanut butter and creamed honey, cranberry and crystallized ginger, orange blossom buttercream and a thick curry and sesame cream. I took a bite of each candy, savoring the way the fillings burst onto my tongue then dissolved, leaving behind only a memory and hint of good, dark chocolate. I went back for seconds on the orange blossom buttercream, an elegantly floral concoction that’s light and ethereal, a far cry from the sticky-thick and sweet cream fillings of my youth.

We used piping bags and small spoons to fill the shells with flavor, then Cary poured another layer of tempered chocolate over the mold. After using an off-set spatula and, what looked to my untrained eye like a spackling tool, to scrape off the excess, she set the chocolates back in the refrigerator to harden completely.

As we cleaned the workspace, we chatted and visited with her son who had sauntered in, asking for some “medicine.” (Cary gave him a small handful of white chocolate chips, which he ate one by one and after, made a contented cooing sort of noise. She smiled.)

When the chocolates were finished, she placed a large sheet of parchment on the table and inverted the trays. She tensed for a moment and mouthed the word “Sorry!” before slamming the mold onto the table. The chocolates came tumbling out and she immediately began inspecting each one. “It just kills me if any of them have gaps or holes in the bottom,” she said. None of them did, but I wondered why it would matter. Most people don’t look at the bottom of a chocolate, do they? “Well, yes, that’s true. Except me,” she said.

We lined the chocolate in tight rows on a baking sheet. As I readied my camera for a picture, Cary pointed to the row of crown-shaped chocolates, filled with cranberry and ginger. They were gleaming, as if they’d been polished. “Aren’t they so cute?” She asked, dancing a bit and letting her short, pixie-like hair move with her. “I just love this.”

October 18, 2011

Passing through Geneva, one might be inclined to write off Opus Espresso and Wine Bar as just another eatery in a college town already saturated with pizza shops and fast-food spots.

Local foodies know better.

Nestled between buildings on the long stretch of downtown Geneva, just an espresso bean's throw from Main Moon Chinese Restaurant and a Philly cheesesteak takeout joint, Opus doesn’t seem like the type of place to be serving up fresh, inspired food with good coffee and great wine. It doesn’t seem like the type of place to make its own granola or serve a breakfast panini with homemade basil pesto, either. And yet. For an eater who demands innovative flavor combinations and a sophisticated, big-city atmosphere to go along with them, Opus just might be the jackpot.

Owners Heather Tompkins and Chelsey Madia began doing business at 486 Exchange St. and haven't stopped moving since. A satellite Opus operates out of Fox Run Vineyards on Seneca Lake until January of 2012 – it opens again in April – and a second satellite recently closed for the season at Rooster Hill Vineyards on Keuka. It’s Tompkins’ and Madia’s hope that they’ll soon have a restaurant on multiple lakes in the region, beckoning wine drinkers with fresh food that pairs well. Their short but snazzy wine list doesn’t hurt either. Fox Run, Rooster Hill and Zugibe represent the region with riesling, gewurztraminer, chardonnay and merlot, but the list reaches as far as Italy and France with a Prosecco and a white Bordeaux.

Armed with rave reviews, I decided to visit Opus for myself on a recent Saturday afternoon. Having gotten a late start for the drive, I found myself careening down 96A at 1:15 p.m., hoping to make it in time for a proper meal before the restaurant closed. I was admittedly skeptical as to how much business a wine bar that stopped service at 2 p.m. could do (their hours have since changed; more on that in a moment), but as I’d heard nothing but praise that bordered on manic dedication, I tried to remain open-minded.

I needn’t have worried. When I arrived shortly before 1:30 p.m., the restaurant was packed. Hip-looking customers, including a man with a fedora and a woman with artfully ripped purple stockings, were perched at tall tables in front of the storefront. Inside, sleepy-sexy music played and a long line of customers hungrily eyed the menu, splashed on the wall from a projector affixed to the ceiling. A list of available sandwiches and salads outlined the day’s offerings, and while most are pre-made, special orders and substitutions aren’t unheard of. I know; I made one. A butternut squash sandwich on ciabatta tempted, but when I asked for cheddar instead of the specified Brie, the staff happily obliged.

Opus does not overlook small details; the salmon in the pickled beet and smoked Gouda sandwich is wild-caught, the onions are gently caramelized on the roast beef and blue cheese, and the house-made macaroni and cheese is topped with candied walnuts – and hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it. Tompkins says that customers frequently request the cinnamon-cranberry French toast sticks and grilled cheese and tomato soup. “We have a little bit of something for everyone,” she said over the phone, with what I imagined to be a modest sort of shrug. “We think that simple, clean ingredients are the best way to eat.”

The interior of the restaurant has been given the same sort of careful attention. A big, artfully rusted steel OPUS sign welcomes customers, and the lighting weaves and snakes around the ceiling on a lazy track. Head to the restroom at the back of the room, and you might catch a glimpse of the kitchen. It’s a lovely space, separated from the dining room by a door that rarely seems to be closed. It doesn’t look so much like industrial food preparation area as it does child’s whimsical representation of what a kitchen should be, all light and airy and bright.

Until recently, Opus was open only for breakfast and lunch, but they’ve recently put extended hours into action. In addition to the original schedule (Monday-Friday, 7 a.m. -4 p.m. and Saturday, 8 a.m. -2 p.m.), they’re now operating from 5 p.m. -8 p.m. on Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights – with plans to extend hours even later in the coming weeks. The new schedule kicked off just last weekend, but the previously abbreviated hours didn’t seem to deter the droves of locals or tourists. In fact, Tompkins explained that it was the onslaught of customers that kept them too busy to expand their business model. But they’re open now, she explained, and excited about the different nighttime vibe.

The evening hours bring a modified menu that leans heavily on made-to-order appetizers and tapas-style dishes, including tartines, fondue and crabcakes. Also worth noting: in a business plan that’s as sure a shot as any, they’re introducing raw oysters next week.

During our phone conversation, Tompkins and Madia’s voices brightened when I asked where they found the inspiration for such an honest, sophisticated and hip restaurant in such an unsuspecting place. “We ate all over,” Madia said before citing Montreal as a direct influence. “It’s an old city with young people.” She paused again, and in the silence I pictured Geneva, with its weathered facades and fresh faces. “You know,” she finished, “We just wanted to build something that reflected us, our taste.”

October 02, 2011

“Come here, you,” Debbie Meritsky cooed, coaxing a brown cow closer to her. It batted its eyes and licked her hand. “Oh!” she said, and added with a sweet-as-pie grin, I’ll take that tongue and eat it!”

The cow might have thought she was kidding.

Debbie and I had paid a visit to Ever Green Farm in Rock Stream, NY, as part of the day of cooking I’d scheduled with her. I’d asked her the week prior if she was game for an interview and she agreed -- under the condition that I also meet Joe and Joely Zerbey, the farmers in charge of her CSA. The Zerbeys were giving us a tour of their land, and between the bright rainbow chard and spaghetti squash, white turkeys and those big-eyed cows, I was beginning to understand why she wanted me to see this.

We packed her share of the week’s produce in reusable grocery bags, but not before getting a lesson in melon astronomy. A deep blue-green one with perfect tiny yellow circles looked just like the night sky. “A moon and stars melon. It’s an heirloom,” Debbie explained to me, and the Zerbeys added that the flesh was just as sweet, if a bit lighter in color, than other varieties.

On the drive back to the Black Sheep Inn (pictured above right, photo by Stu Gallagher) in Hammondsport, NY, where Debbie is the chef and she and her husband, Marc Rotman, share duties as co-owners, we let conversation wander. I had come armed with a list of questions about her background, culinary outlook, favorite ingredients, but we found ourselves chatting like old friends about everything from raising children to holistic medicine. That’s a huge part of her appeal. She’s so honest, unguarded, so at ease with who she is and what she stands for, that it’s near-impossible not to get excited about her interpretation of food when she’s cooking.

Arrive a skeptic and you will very likely leave a convert.

Meritsky and Rotman are already an integral part of Hammondsport’s fabric even though they’re recent transplants. They made the move from Cleveland, where she worked as a chef and caterer. “I always kind of knew that I wouldn’t stay there forever,” she said. “I wanted to see new places, do different things.” It was the house at 8329 Pleasant Valley Road that they fell in love with first. The Black Sheep Inn is an octagonal structure -– a style of architecture increasingly difficult to find -– and Meritsky and Rotman found themselves not just repairing the house, but creating a business model based on organic, local, responsible and sustainable living.

They pride themselves on having a good discourse with their clients: those who stay at the Black Sheep aren’t just looking for a place to crash after a whirlwind wine tour. They’re people who care about supporting small farmers, get excited about the fact that Meritsky and Rotman make all of their own cleaning supplies, and of course, understand the merits of a hearty, locally-sourced meal to start the day.

Debbie cooks breakfast every morning for her guests, along with snacks, picnics and other treats, in the kitchen she and Rotman designed and built. It’s a beautiful space. The room is anchored by a thick wooden butcher’s block and flanked by a wall of spices, herbs and oils and two large ovens. A striking hood looms from the ceiling. The efficiency of the room gives the feel of a professional kitchen but it’s warmed by homey touches, like well-seasoned cast-iron pans and a wooden stirring spoon with a big hole in the middle that she just can’t bring herself to throw out. “Well, it still works,” she said unapologetically.

We had planned to prepare three of her most popular breakfasts: a vegetable and cheddar sandwich soaked in egg and cream and baked in the oven; a hollowed and stuffed zucchini; and a hold-all crock that comes out of the oven bubbling and hot, layered with potatoes, goat Brie-style cheese and Portobello mushrooms. As Debbie sliced golden squash and mustard greens for the sandwich, she handed me a bowl with the egg and thick cream. “Here, you can stir this.”

“With this?” The bowl had a patterned chopstick in it.

She shrugged and laughed. “I call myself the lazy cook. I use whatever’s closest.”

It’s a peculiar assertion for someone who takes no shortcuts and wastes nothing. Every vegetable scrap, from garlic paper to carrot tops, goes into the stockpot consistently simmering away on the stovetop. She later strains it through a fine mesh sieve in traditional French style, removing any impurities and leaving intensely flavored broth to be used later for cooking.

Like many great restaurant chefs, she pays close attention to the flavors inherent in the food she cooks and tries to enhance, not manipulate them. But there’s one big difference between her and the current trend in restaurants: “I hate, hate, hate stacked food,” she said. “What do you do with it? How do you eat it?”

I asked what she considered to be the most important element in presenting her meals to her guests. She didn’t skip a beat. “Does it taste good? Do [the flavors] work together? Does it flow?"

At Black Sheep, from the fascinating architecture to the food to the philosophy underpinning it all, it flows. Nodding to the food, Debbie added, "When you see it, you should be able to tell exactly what it is.”

September 15, 2011

Though he has the credentials and skills to brag, Brud Holland is not an egotistical cook. The new executive chef at Red Newt Bistro in Hector, NY, tends to shy away from the limelight, preferring to give attention to the food itself and the kitchen staff who creates it. He’s adamant that he doesn’t yearn for big-city praise and exposure, and his face poorly hides a wry grin when the term “celebrity chef” is mentioned.

And then there’s his name. He often reminds people of its pronunciation by rhyming it to the word crud, not missing a beat when questioned further. “I never really dug the whole 'Brud-the-Stud' thing. That was more high school,” he said as we chatted last Saturday before the lunch rush at the Newt. The name is actually a nickname, but when his mother was pregnant, the family couldn’t resist the charm of his sister telling everyone she was excited to get a little “brudder.” They named him Donald but “Brud just stuck,” he said with a laugh. “I like it.”

Interviewing Holland is more like playing tag-along -- physically, as he moves from the oven to the proofing box full of bread dough and back again, and mentally, as conversation hops from favorite foods to childhood memories to what makes a truly great vegetarian meal. (For the record, he claims he’s still working on figuring that one out.) His glasses are slightly scuffed, his hair a bit unruly, and he has an endearing sort of manic energy that’s easy to latch onto.

When I arrived at Red Newt, we sat down at a table on the deck overlooking the surrounding fields. We weren’t sitting long. Almost immediately, Holland jumped up and motioned for me to follow. “I want to show you what we’re working on,” he said as he disappeared into the small kitchen. I followed him and was met with the heady scent of yeast and herbs. “I’m drawn to baking because it’s so scientific,” he explained, turning a sheet pan of focaccia around 180 degrees and closing the oven door. “And I think that carries over to the rest of my cooking.” He paused for a rare moment, choosing his words carefully. “I think there’s a right way to do things in the kitchen, on the hot line.”

I asked for an example. “Chicken,” he responded. “I know the proper way to sear chicken. You can’t use olive oil, for one thing. It’s cold-pressed and the smoke point isn’t high enough. I prefer grapeseed oil for that; its smoke point is 485 degrees. Plus, it has nutritional value,” he said before stopping himself. “Is this too technical?”

Holland’s cooking style may be heavily technical, but it doesn’t taste like it: molecular gastronomy this is not. Each dish feels familiar and accessible, like the comfort food you make at home -- only better. A Moroccan chicken sandwich tasted luxurious, the faint heat from the spice-crusted chicken tempered by a creamy black bean and yogurt spread. A cheddar cheese and apple dip, served with more of that housemade bread, was a responsibly seasonable nod: Holland isn’t pummeling us with pumpkin pie spices, but rather letting diners catch a glimpse of the flavors the region has to offer in the fall. The soup of the day was a velvety potato-leek, and a smoked salmon and potato tartlet arrived tasting -- and looking -- impeccable, despite his sheepish admission that a stuck timer on the oven had caused yesterday’s batch to become “salvageable, but not ideal.”

Holland prides himself on everything that comes out of his kitchen, but it’s the seemingly limitless variations of bread recipes in his cache he’s best known for. “A friend was eating here the other day,” he said, “And he told me that when he bit into the bread, he could just ‘tell I was there.’”

The bread is good. Light and full of air pockets, in the case of his focaccia, and nutty with a hint of beer, in the case of the honey-oat sourdough. I was also lucky enough to leave with a loaf of one of his experimental varieties: a hearty sourdough made with spent barley. I inhaled it.

And if Brud’s outlook on food -- his passion and patience, the feeling that you just know him after eating at the Red Newt -- sounds familiar, it’s because he is intent on carrying on the traditions of Debra Whiting, the bistro’s original owner and chef. The two were collaborators and friends, both having taught culinary classes at 171 Cedar Arts in Corning, NY and sharing meals together with their families. He plans to honor Deb’s memory by maintaining the calm, warm and educational feel of the Newt’s kitchen, and continuing to offer the dishes and plates she was best known for. “There are some things we’ll keep on the menu forever,” he said.

The transition from patron and friend to the Newt and Dave Whiting, the winemaker and owner -- and Deb’s husband -- to chef and business partner felt organic to Holland. “We all have nicknames for each other,” he said with a twinkle in his eye, though he claimed he couldn’t recall them all right then.

Brud’s infectious enthusiasm for cooking, eating well and pairing the whole experience with wine can assure Red Newt fans that the bistro will remain one of the most welcoming dining rooms in the Finger Lakes.

September 05, 2011

Wine is most certainly food, but beyond our cheese coverage, we haven't done a great job introducing you to New York's seemingly endless food artisans. In fact, it's been almost non-existent. That's why today's dual announcement that Dave Seel and Rochelle Bilow are joining the NYCR staff to expand our food coverage is so exciting.

Rochelle Bilow doesn't just consider cooking, eating and seeking out the best food around her job -- she considers it her life. She prides herself on being “food-obsessed” and works to make good, honest food accessible and exciting to everyone.

In addition to serving as the Finger Lakes Wine & Food Ambassador for Finger Lakes Wine Country and Finger Lakes Wine Alliance, Rochelle is a food columnist at the Syracuse Post-Standard. She attended culinary school at the French Culinary Institute and lived and cooked in Manhattan before coming home to Upstate New York.

Rochelle combines a genuine love for the Finger Lakes with an impressively large appetite, and will be writing not just about the restaurants of the region, but the farmers, artisans and everything in between.

Downstate on Long Island, Dave Seel will fill a similar role, covering the growers, chefs and artisans in and around Long Island wine country.

Having driven cross country nine times, Dave a veteran food adventurer. He's caught lobsters in Maine, eaten fresh venison in The Redwoods, and though once was a vegetarian, he fell prey to bacon and has a love affair with bison.

While living in California, he became obsessed with Napa Cabs, Anderson Valley Pinots and Truffle Tremor goat cheese. When not teaching students about the San Francisco Estuary, he was adventuring in wine country and the neighborhoods of San Francisco, discovering the brilliance of California cuisine.

He is a strong advocate for producing food and libations locally and supporting regional food systems.

After a brief stint in the wine industry, Dave moved back to his native Long Island to be closer to family. He brought a love of food adventuring, wine, and local food and was very excited to discover the food scenes of NYC and The East End.

Please join me in welcoming them to the site and look for their first posts over the next couple of weeks.

August 15, 2011

Hicks and McCarthy restaurant in Pittsford (outside Rochester) will host a public viewing party for Deb Whiting's appearance on the Food Network show "Chopped." The episode, taped months ago, will air Tuesday night at 10pm.

Deb Whiting died in a car accident in June. Her leadership in the culinary field has been celebrated at many events in the intervening weeks, and her appearance on "Chopped" is a reminder of just how highly she was regarded.

The public viewing party at Hicks and McCarthy begins at 8 p.m., leading up to the 10 p.m. show. The restaurant, which recently came under new ownership, has shown strong interest in local foods and wines. Those who attend are welcome to bring Red Newt wine for the party.

August 09, 2011

We all know it. Chardonnay has an image problem. It lost its way by rooting itself all over the world without regard for its culture, forgetting what made it so great in the first place.

It’s been taking acid left and right, tartaric acid that is, and hanging out in some dark places, mostly new oak, for way too long. It is a grape that is in desperate need of a PR boost, an image makeover and a primetime comeback appearance in front of the wine world. One wine region has taken this on with the hopes of boosting its own reputation as a producer of world-class chardonnay.

Fifty six wineries from across the globe, including several from Canada, brought their chardonnays to Niagara Ontario last month for a series of lunches, tastings and celebrations in hopes of raising awareness that chardonnay produced in cooler climates retains a distinctive character that resembles what made chardonnay so great in Burgundy.

The makeover process involved a few gradual steps. First the organizers had to define “cool chardonnay.” They took the political strategist approach by defining “warm climate” chardonnay – their opponent if you will – on the event’s website as being “over-oaked and lifeless.” Ouch!

Next, IC4 organizers laid the groundwork for what regions could be considered cool-climate. Defining a region as such isn’t all that simple, but they described cool by altitude, by latitude, by marine influence and/or by climatic conditions. Most importantly, they needed to convince us, the rank and file drinkers, why we should seek out chardonnay grown in these regions. As the IC4 website states, “Chardonnay vines that are grown in cool climates and encouraged to allow a sense of place to shine through can produce a wine that is balanced, refreshing, complex and elegant.” Sold!

With cool chardonnay now redefined, there was only one thing left to do: nail that primetime appearance at the IC4 event. I was lucky enough to make it out for two events – a winemaker luncheon and tasting at Southbrook Vineyards and the Grand Tasting at Tawse Winery – and I feel like a born again chardonnay lover.

So who was cool enough to pour at the Chardonnay world tour, aka the Grand Tasting? Wineries from Ontario, Burgundy, Oregon, British Columbia, New Zealand, Austria, South Africa, Italy, Australia, Chile and New York were all represented. But for me, this is where the message can get a little muddy. Many would question how Australia, Italy or South Africa would be considered a cool climate or question what they have in common with Burgundy or Niagara.

The impression I got after speaking to a few winemakers was that it’s all relative.

Obviously Burgundy doesn’t need a PR makeover like the rest of the chardonnay-growing world, but I did find Burgundian-turned-Oregonian winemaker Gilles de Domingo of Copper Mountain Vineyards to be a good source for explaining his view of cool climate.

“The essentials of cool climate include a relatively late harvest of the chardonnay grapes in late September or even into October following a late bud break during the spring,” he says. Simply put, de Domingo believes a cool climate is one moderated enough to allow a gradual warm-up in the spring, while keeping daytime temperatures low enough during the summer to allow the grapes to hang late into the season.

There were a number of standouts wines at this tasting, including some from regions most people wouldn’t assume were cool climate. Josef Chromey Winery of Tasmania made a good showing, and Ataraxia’s 2009 Chardonnay from the lesser-known South African sub-region of Hemel-en-Aarde Valley were impressive. Pyramid Valley Vineyard from New Zealand poured chardonnays that were zesty and refreshing, and that may have even bordered on grassy, leaving the impression that the Canterbury region’s climate may have even been too cool for chardonnay.

It goes without saying that many of the Niagara Ontario chards were outstanding. The organizers and participating wineries obviously did their homework and poured the best the region has to offer.

My favorites were from Southbrook, Hidden Bench, Pearl Morisette and Tawse. Poured side-by-side with the international wineries, there’s no doubt, to me at least, that Niagara chardonnay can stand with the best of them.

What was the common thread in all these wines? Similarities became transparent in lively acidities, delicate balances, lower alcohols, and fruit profiles resembling citrus and stone fruit as opposed to melon and tropical aromas. There was an obvious lack of over-oaked wines, and not one of my notes included the words buttery or butterscotch, indicating that maloactic fermentations were closely managed.

But should New York now jump on the cool chardonnay bandwagon?

Interestingly enough, Dr. Konstantin Frank was the only New York producer at the event. We are certainly the textbook definition of cool climate and there’s no shortage of chardonnay growing across the state, so there’s nothing stopping New York from making wines like these – and educating the consumer as to why they’re special as well. I think New York can learn from Niagara’s coordinated marketing campaigns and meticulous quality control.

There may even be a few other grapes in the state that ready for an image makeover too. How about merlot on Long Island or Lemberger in the Finger Lakes? Maybe even baco noir in the Hudson Valley is ready for its closeup.

July 26, 2011

The small French commune of Tain-l'Hermitage is known for its pitched vineyards that yield some of the world's finest syrah. It is not nearly so well known as the birthplace of copper ovens.

"France's soil is good for more than just winegrowing," explain Seth and Mary Jane Kircher, the husband-and-wife owners of The Copper Oven, a specialty pizza joint connected to Cayuga Ridge winery. "Our oven was born in Tain-l'Hermitage and we worked with a family in Maine who helped us with its final construction."

The oven is a marvel to behold, and that's before it fires up to 800 degrees for the task of cooking a pizza in two minutes. Visible from the main routes that line the western shore of Cayuga Lake, the oven attracts first-time visitors who simply want to know what it is.

Seth has an answer prepared.

"The oven itself is 6000 pounds of 'terra blanche', or white organic clay brick, which offers a thermal efficiency and durability that is superior to materials like firebrick or refractory concrete found in comparable ovens," he says, as if it weren't already obvious.

On a recent visit, Seth was home with their young child, while MJ was cranking away at the oven. My wife and I split a pizza topped with prosciutto, creme fraiche, parmesan, onion scapes, and balsamic vinegar for $12. We grabbed a glass of Cayuga Ridge Riesling for $6. The pizza was thin, crispy, and, while pretty to look at, it lasted just a few minutes.

Describing their efforts as "hyper-local," MJ explains, "I'm not sure we have a most popular pizza, but we do get regular requests for the 26 Mile. All of that pizza's ingredients are sourced from within 26 miles of where the oven sits in Ovid, so we'll use Lively Run Chevre, local caramelized onions, and a generous drizzle of Stonybrook Butternut Squash Seed Oil."

"Suffice it to say, during our initial business planning exercise, wheels seemed to be our best insurance policy," MJ says. "You know, in case other revenue streams needed to be considered, like catering or events."

But after opening The Copper Oven in 2010, the Kirchers have not had to go mobile.

MJ's dad is the winemaker next door at Cayuga Ridge, and she says the combination of Finger Lakes wine and wood-fired pizza is "a perfect fit." The recipes come from MJ; the expert sampling is handled by Seth. MJ credits her mother, whom she describes as "a master in the kitchen," with inspiring her to launch a pizza business.

There is also a service mentality that pervades The Copper Oven. Seth is in charge of the "social mission," which includes donating five percent of The Copper Oven's profits to Healthy Food for All in 2010. In 2011, the Kirchers shifted the focus to the Drink Finger Lakes Wine project.

"So far, sale of the specially made t-shirts have resulted in more than $450 in donations to the Finger Lakes Culinary Bounty," MJ says.

Spend just a few minutes chatting with MJ and you find that she and Seth bring a kind of existentialist bent to everything they do. They are extremely sensitive to their place in the region. They share a wicked sense of humor but are also quick to become contemplative.

More than anything, you get the sense that the Kirchers just want to establish a permanent home and identity in the Finger Lakes. It can not be easy to make much money selling pizza, but this is the kind of couple more focused on seeing the business survive. They appreciate the culinary talent in the region and they're quick to praise others. If the copper dome that catches travelers' eye can become a lasting fixture, that just might be enough.

There is one more ingredient at The Copper Oven that is often lacking in young businesses: accessibility. Seth and MJ take an inordinate amount of time simply talking to customers and answering questions. You can see the connections forming in just five minutes. It makes for longer days, but they believe it's worth it.

I wonder if eventually they will find a reason to take that thing to a thousand degrees or more. "We can get the oven hotter than 800 degrees, but there's nothing on our menu that needs more heat than that," they explain. Does no one want a pizza finished in one minute? 30 seconds? These Kirchers are a lot of things, but ostentatious about their oven, they are not. Oh well, We order another pizza. As much as I want it now, I'll just have to wait.

July 03, 2011

You could forgive Judy Wiltberger for feeling skeptical about what she just heard. It was summer, 1989, and maybe the warm air and stunning views had imbued the region with an unrealistic sense of optimism. After all, Judy had doubts about her own grand visions for a winery called Keuka Spring. But the couple sitting across from her at dinner seemed perhaps one step further out of step with reality. They had just declared their hope to launch not only a winery, but a restaurant attached to it.

"I'm going to start a restaurant," the ebullient Deb Whiting had declared. "There's such great opportunity here."

And that, at least, was true. The culinary scene in the Finger Lakes was stuck on fast food and faster food.

But there was a reason that wineries weren't built in tandem with restaurants: They couldn't make money, couldn't attract enough business. And it would be even more difficult to create a successful business in the vision laid out by Deb Whiting: high-end food, mostly local, with all local wines.

But Judy and her husband Len just smiled. If this couple wanted to take a shot, why not root them on? They seemed to have the energy. They would probably fail, but what's life without taking risks and seeing how far even the most unlikely dream can go?

*****

Deb Whiting shared more in common with her hero Alice Waters than she was willing to let on. Waters pioneered a local food movement in California; Whiting practically invented the local food movement in the Finger Lakes. She was proudly working with local agriculture long before it became a national trend, long before "local" became an effective marketing term.

But give Deb credit for two things: First, she didn't think the local food movement was a fad, but instead a permanent shift in values. Second, she didn't give a damn if she were wrong about that, because she was going to keep right on serving local food.

"This isn't a trend," she said on a summer's day in 2008. "People understand that local food is often better food, and it's better for them, and it's clearly better for the local economy. There's too much going for the local food movement to see it fade away. It's here, and it's only going to get stronger."

Deb's culinary exploits have turned local growers and purveyors into quasi-celebrities. Finger Lakes foodies are quite familiar with Autumn's Harvest Farm, a smaller-scale version of Joel Salatin's farm that gained national prominence in Michael Pollan's book The Omnivore's Dilemma. And how many trips to the Newt were punctuated by some magical creation featuring Lively Run chevre?

The seasonally based raviolis at the Newt are a marvel. One hasn't dined until one has enjoyed Deb Whiting's rhubarb-chevre ravioli, or her mid-summer blueberry ravioli, or any number of other versions accented cleverly and subtly with lavender or currant sauce or fig.

But unlike the celebrity chefs that have popped on reality television or in bookstores, Deb Whiting never stopped being accessible. Friends would muse about trying new recipes at home and Deb would insist they try a certain technique, following up with phone calls or emails to find out if it worked. Her customers knew her well enough to call her name across a crowded restaurant. One June afternoon I witnessed a table bolt to attention at the sight of Deb, rapturously applauding. First standing O I'd ever seen in a restaurant.

I can still hear the applause bouncing off the walls of the dining room.

*****

The Independence Day weekend is supposed to be one of the most joyful times of the year in the Finger Lakes. The weather is warm, the lakes are alive, the wine is flowing. But for 48 surreal hours, every time someone laughed they felt almost, well, guilty.

Is it okay to laugh?

There's no guidebook for dealing with this stuff, of course. So laughter is okay. So is sadness. And confusion.

At Ravines Wine Cellars, a woman brought up Deb Whiting's name Sunday afternoon and promptly melted into convulsions. The entire staff bowed their heads. This scene was playing out at dozens of tasting rooms, dozens of times.

Mostly, though, I have moved past confusion and sadness. Now I'm just pissed.

*****

See, it's silly to talk about who deserves what in life. How are we to judge? What is the standard for who is more deserving of tragedy, or less?

But with that out of the way, I can tell you that Dave Whiting doesn't deserve this.

I am angry, at no one and nothing, on his behalf. I am angry for the region. Nothing I can do, right? Have to try to move on, right? I don't care. I'm furious.

Two weeks ago, Dave Whiting joined us for dinner in New York City. Deb was back home, and we were dining at the new Boulud Sud. Dave was so taken with the meal that he snapped off a handful of photos and immediately texted them to his wife. She couldn't be there to share it, so he wanted her to experience it as much as she could.

That's love. That's geeky, holding hands, flowers-for-no-reason love. How many couples still offer those little gestures after more than two decades together? How many couples are so excited to be married that they can't stand to miss one night out together?

Hell, how many couples can work together every damn day and come out stronger?

So I don't care if it doesn't make sense. I'm angry with the universe because I know there's nothing to make this right.

And yet.

*****

The Finger Lakes has broken through to some impressive new heights when it comes to wine and food, but the region is on a knife's edge. Simply put, there's a lot of reason to believe the region can't succeed in the wake of this loss.

Here, though, is where legacy comes in. No one could argue that Deb Whiting had enough time with us, but she had enough time to build something special and lasting. She is gone, but her ethos is thriving. It is embedded in the Newt. That won't change. It has infected the culinary scene from lake to lake to lake. There are more fine dining options than ever before, many of them highlighting local food. Don't be so naive to think Deb's fingerprints aren't all over those establishments.

The stretch of road that hugs the southeast side of Seneca Lake is a monument to Deb Whiting. You're going out to eat, and how do you choose? There's the Newt, yes, but there's Stonecat Cafe. There's Suzanne, and Dano's. We're just getting started. It's a foodie's dream.

But there is a real risk now for the region. Deb Whiting was the thread that was often unseen, silently weaving culinary efforts together. She worked tirelessly for the Finger Lakes Culinary Bounty. Her goal was to share the stage, not own it. She knew that a team filled with all-stars is stronger than a team focused on one player.

It will not be easy to carry her efforts forward, but it will be necessary. This weekend, Judy Wiltberger smiled at the memory of Deb's eager pronouncements all those years ago. Deb has done her part to succeed where it was more than a little unlikely, and so many of us have benefited. She deserves to have her memory carried forward with even more significant successes for the region.

And there's that word again: deserves.

*****

Dave Whiting deserves love and patience and support, and he'll get it. Ryan and Brenton and the rest of the Red Newt family deserve to know what Deb Whiting has meant to the Finger Lakes. There's comfort in knowing that they're already seeing it, and feeling it.

This week they will feel it directly when the region converges on the Newt to offer a formal goodbye.

Michael Warren Thomas, local broadcaster and leader in the local food movement, put forward an idea this weekend. What if, he suggested, we all showed our support by buying a couple of bottles of Red Newt wine? And what if our friends did, too? And what if some of us bought not just two bottles, but enough to use as hostess gifts and summer sippers and wintertime warmers?

His email spread quickly. It seems obvious -- so many of us already buy Red Newt wine, right? But Michael's point is that there is some urgency. He figures people can show support by supporting the business, buying the wine, visiting the tasting room, and dining at Red Newt Bistro. All summer long.

It is admittedly a difficult place to go these days. It will not be the same, ever. We can't expect it to be.

But we can feel good about this remarkable life, her relentless pursuit of quality, her refusal to even consider the notion that simply being good could be good enough. Our lives are fuller for having spent time with Deb Whiting, and grief doesn't have to have the last word.

July 01, 2011

Deb died in a car accident last night while returning home from Vermont with her husband Dave, who was injured in the crash. Dave is listed in stable condition after being taken to a Syracuse hospital.

The Whitings have long been regional ambassadors, reaching into new markets and pushing for higher quality standards. The restaurant, built around Deb Whiting's passion for local agriculture, has won many awards and is the reigning NYCR Finger Lakes Restaurant of the Year.

We will have more to say about the Whitings next week. For now, we can only try, and fail, to convey our sadness over the loss.

This is an industry that takes great pride on a spirit of collaboration, and that spirit has never been needed more.

Our thoughts go out to the Whiting family as well as the entire Red Newt family and Finger Lakes wine community.

This place, on Keuka Lake's east side, is a convenience store combined with a cult-famous breakfast and lunch spot. But they could get rid of all other food items and it would still be worth the trip for the Rachel sandwich.

Customers routinely tell owner Seth Olney that his Rachel is the best they've ever had. "They're right, of course," Seth says with a smile. "And it's always great to hear it."

Of course, you could always try the... Forget it, you're getting the Rachel.

For our Basic-Level Members this month, we have an perennial favorite and a charity-minded newcomer.

First, we have Shinn Estate Vineyards 2010 Coalescence, a wine that straddles the line between a white and a rose. Sounds interesting, doesn't it?

It's steel-fermented blend of chardonnay, merlot blanc, sauvignon blanc and pinot noir blanc. Fresh and fruity-but-balanced it mostly looks like a white wine, but from certain angles in certain light, you can definitely tell there are some red varieties in there. The 2009 was my summer wine last year... and this one is in the running for this year.

Our other Basic-Level wine for March is the debut of Red Tail Ridge Winery's 2010 Good Karma. Medium-bodied and just off-dry, it overflows with honeyed apples, pears, ripe peach -- with a squirt of citrusy acidity that balances a slightly creamy, mouth-filling. Best of all, a portion of every bottle sold goes to a local charity.

Readers of this site will recognize our two Premium-Level wines this month -- they both won their categories in our 2010 Wines of the Year tasting -- and both required a little extra work to get our hands on.

Leonard Oakes Estate Winery 2009 Chardonnay was our Niagara White Wine of the Year and stood out for it's ripe, extremely tropical fruit flavors and beautiful balance. Made without a splinter of oak, this is a brisk wine ready for spring.

Roanoke Vineyards on the North Fork of Long Island only sells its wines in its tasting room and via its wine club, but, we were able to convince them to sell us enough Roanoke Vineyards 2007 Blend One for the club. A blend of 60% cabernet sauvignon, 28% merlot and 12% cabernet franc, this winner of the Long Island Non-Merlot Red Wine of the Year shows the ripeness of the 2007 vintages as well as restrained oak and impeccable balance.

If you want to open it now, I recommend decanting it for at least an hour. Or, you can hide this one from yourself in the corner of your cellar and be rewarded many years down the road.

Learn more about the club and by all means, sign up. You can just do a month or three if you want to try it out. And as always, if you have any questions, please just ask me!

January 04, 2011

This is, by any measure, the down season in the Finger Lakes wine industry. Vines are hibernating, tourists are less numerous. But Damiani Wine Cellars on southeast Seneca Lake is hoping a weekend event will enliven the local scene.

This Sunday, from 1 to 4 in the afternoon, Damiani will host Wine, Swine, Dine. The free event combines wine tasting, food and local art.

"The farmers and artisan food crafters will have their goods available for sale, so the event will have a kind of farmer's market vibe," says Amy Cheatle, tasting room manager of Damiani Wine Cellars.

Damiani recently opened a new tasting room and often features local artists. Christin Boggs' art will be on display, and it focuses on the local food movement.

Cheatle says fusion events like this one will only become more common in tasting rooms like Damiani's. She hopes the lack of an admission fee will help boost attendance on what might otherwise be a slow Sunday.

December 31, 2010

We can all agree that dreams are strange things. There is no controlling the content and there is often no explaining it, either. This year I have found one consistent theme to my otherwise unpredictable dreams: Rhubarb-Chevre Ravioli.

For that I blame (or perhaps thank) the dynamic Deb Whiting, chef and co-owner of Red Newt Bistro on the southeast side of Seneca Lake. The bistro is our Finger Lakes Restaurant of the Year.

Beyond the ravioli - and really, do you need another reason? - here is a list of reasons that we selected this outstanding restaurant for the honor.

Focus on local

Before locavore was a word or a movement, Deb Whiting was practicing it intuitively. The beef often comes from Autumn's Harvest Farm, a 20-minute drive north. The fruits and vegetables come from Finger Lakes growers. And remember that ravioli I was telling you about? The rhubarb and the chevre are local, too.

Not only will you find a menu heavily tilted toward local food at Red Newt Bistro, you'll find a staff that boasts of the local connections. They're proud of it. They should be.

Creative food

Chef Whiting is becoming famous for her clever food creations. They are almost always seasonally inspired. In my book I refer to Deb's highly sought fig biscuits; they're technically called fig turnovers, consisting of Gorgonzola, garlic cream cheese, shallots, apple, and kale in puff pastry with a maple verjus glaze.

Chef Whiting and her husband Dave (co-owner and winemaker of Red Newt Cellars) have composed the most thorough list of high-quality Finger Lakes wines in western New York. Red Newt bottlings are featured but hardly the only option. In fact, Dave is constantly seeking the best wines from his colleagues to add to the bistro list.

The result is a joy for wine lovers: You can find recent releases as well as aged bottles for reasonable prices. This summer my wife and I spent $46 for a bottle of 1999 Red Newt Riesling. It was a bargain.

Stellar service

The Whitings have instilled a culture of friendly, quality service. Their staff is knowledgeable and attentive without being pushy.

For setting such a fine standard, we salute Red Newt Bistro, our Finger Lakes Restaurant of the Year, 2010.

December 30, 2010

One of the goals for the New York Cork Report is to shine the spotlight on the people, places and things that we are excited about in the New York wine community. Our "Wines of the Year" program was born of this goal and in discussing our goals going forward, the other editors and I have decided to add "Restaurants of the Year" to the site as well.

As with the wine program, this series of awards isn't strictly about the best restaurant in each region."Best" is vague at best and fact is, none of us claim to have eaten at every restaurant in any region.

But, our love of food, wine and everything local does result in us meeting many chefs, eating in their restaurants and understanding their style.

Based on those experiences, each of our regional wine editors has idenitfied a restaurant that shares and embraces many of the beliefs we ourselves have -- local ingredients, local wines and local community.

With 2011 bearing down on us quickly, come back tomorrow for posts from me, Evan and Bryan as we tell you about our restaurants of the year from Long Island, the Finger Lakes and Niagara respectively.

November 28, 2010

Last night my wife and I had dinner at the Next Door Bar & Grill in Pittsford - a Wegmans creation that has become a popular spot in the Rochester area. Walking through the door I nearly knocked shoulders with Steve Shaw, owner and winemaker of Shaw Vineyard on Seneca Lake.

During dinner, Steve was nice enough to send over a glass of the Shaw 2005 Cabernet Franc. It's a recent release for him; Shaw holds red wines back, allowing more time for maturing in bottle.

This is not a good idea for all winemakers in the Finger Lakes, but it has worked very well at Shaw, and this wine is an instant contender for NYCR Finger Lakes Red Wine of the Year. Vibrant but brooding, it was a wonderful addition to our dinner table.

By the way, Next Door does a fine job in composing its wine list to include the Finger Lakes. (There is only one Long Island wine on the list, from Bedell.) The wine list includes some of the best bottlings from the region, and our waiter's first suggestion for a white wine with dinner was the Hermann J. Wiemer 2008 Magdalena Vineyard Riesling. At a price of $44, it's not much more than the retail price in the tasting room. A classic food wine, it tasted even better with the concomitant seasonal fare.

It's not often that a dinner includes two of the top wines from New York state, and it made the evening that much more enjoyable.

August 09, 2010

Thursday brought a positively elysian setting for the annual Finger Lakes Culinary Bounty dinner. Chefs from a number of local establishments used local ingredients to create an inspiring menu, highlighted by rabbit that nearly fell off the bone. And of course the wines were local, punctuated by Sheldrake Point Gewurztraminer and a sparkling wine from Dr. Konstantin Frank.

Thanks to FLCB for asking me to emcee the proceedings at Geneva On the Lake. It has become a hot ticket, and membership in the FLCB is a pittance for an organization that works hard to connect local businesses and purveyors.

July 27, 2010

We started our three-day Cayuga jaunt with a stop at Long Point Winery, home to a surprising number of California reds but some tasty local whites too.

By Lenn Thompson, Executive Editor

The Finger Lakes region is one the most beautiful spots on earth -- at least my wife and I think so. That's why we seem to vacation in the ara almost any chance we get. Sometimes it's just for a one-night getaway. Other times it's for a week with the little guy.

We had talked about going to Italy or Spain to celebrate our five-year wedding anniversary a few weeks ago, but in the end, fiscal responsibility won out and we headed back to the Finger Lakes -- but to Cayuga Lake. Previous we had spent significant time on Keuka Lake and Seneca Lake and we thought it was time to explore Ithaca and the surrounding area.

We hiked every day, ate some great meals and yes, tasted some great wines to boot.

Wine was almost secondary on this trip though. We devoted much more time to the natural beauty of Cayuga Lake and the surrounding areas.

That doesn't mean that we didn't eat and drink well though.

Rather than touch on every single thing that we put in our mouths over the course of four days and three nights, I thought I'd share the highlights and one disappointment.

Some of the Highlights:

Aurora Inn: We ate several great meals on the trip, but dinner at the Aurora Inn on our final night was a standout. The combination of people, place, food and wine made it a meal to remember. A panna cotta made with local goat's milk chevre and dressed with roasted, lightly-pickled local beets was one of the stars of the night for me.

Bellwether Hard Cider: I'm not a big cider drinker -- just because I haven't had much exposure to them beyond the big-production stuff you can find in just about every grocery store around here. Bellwether ciders bear little resemblance to those. Nena was even a bigger cider doubter than I was -- and we both came away completely converted. The balance and surprising nuance of these hand-crafted ciders is impressive. A must-stop on the west side of Cayuga Lake.

Cayuga Lake Creamery: Speaking of must-stops, here's another one. Looks like any other street-side ice cream joint until you get closer and get a look at the creative and interesting flavors. I can still taste the salted caramel scoop I enjoyed as we drove back to Ithaca.

Ithaca Beer Company: Nena and I decided that we were going to hike a lot during our trip, and we kicked that off about half an hour after getting into town with a quick drive to Buttermilk Falls. It was mid-afternoon. It was hot. We were tired and sweaty. But we drove down the street to Ithaca Beer Company and were quickly refreshed by beers like Flower Power (IPA), Ground Break (saison) and Partly Sunny (wit). We even liked the root beer enough to buy some of that too. Don't be fooled by the storefront location. They are making seriously delicious beers.

Just a Taste: Ithaca doesn't lack for restaurants, but there aren't many wine-focused spots. Just a Taste, with an incredible number of wines by the glass (including just enough local stuff in my mind) made for a fun opening night dinner of small plates that were all solid and often good. It was easy to over-order the tapas...and we did.

Lively Run Goat Dairy: Wonderful, extremely affordable cheeses in a tiny and definitely rustic tasting room tucked into a barn. We bought a piece of every cheese they make.

Heart & Hands Wine Company: While we tried to focus on places we'd never been to before, we did make a return visit to the best little pinot noir winery in the East. We tasted two new 2009 rieslings, which I forgot to buy for review later. You've ready enough about H&H on this site to know that you should just go for yourself.

Simply Red Bistro: The beautiful views of Cayuga Lake and comfortable, sunny setting are reason enough to grab a tasting trail lunch at Simply Red Bistro (which is at Sheldrake Point Vineyard). That we had some amazingly good food makes it the place to lunch on the west side of Cayuga Lake. Nena has eaten mussels all over the country and Chef Sam Izzo's were among the best she's had. My steak sandwich -- made with local grass-fed beef -- was stellar. Finishing a great lunch and then bellying up to the winery's tasting bar was pretty fun too. If only Long Island wineries could have restaurants.

One Major Disappointment:

Moosewood Restaurant: When the power went out at Hazelnut Kitchen the day of our reservation, they called and told us that they'd likely not be able to open. We were of course disappointed, but took the opportunity to head to the famous vegetarian restaurant Moosewood. Disinterested service and food that tasted a little too much like home cooking -- meaning I could have cooked it just as well if not better from one of their cookbooks -- made for an extremely 'whelming' experience. At least they had several local beers on draft.

July 04, 2010

We recently had a seriously disappointing wine experience at a celebrated Finger Lakes location: Belhurst Castle on Seneca Lake.

Really, I should say that it was disappointing and bizarre, because I'm not sure I can recall ever seeing something like this before. It was a Saturday night, Fourth of July weekend, and I was part of a large post-wedding group that wanted to hang out at a place with a solid wine list and good atmosphere. We arrived at Belhurst at about 11 p.m., where we found their gorgeous bar absolutely jumping. Classy room, great energy, and I loved the sunken bar area, which allowed customers to see out the windows and onto the lake.

We found space for our group and the staff told us to take our time, because they stay open "as late as our customers want us to be, which usually means around 3 a.m. on weekends like this." Very nice. We asked for a wine list, and they happily brought one over.

It's a fascinating list. You can find Rhone wines, northern Italian, Loire, hard-to-find Spanish, and many more. We settled on two bottles: a Vouvray and a wine listed as the 2001 Ravines Meritage, Finger Lakes.

I was curious to know if they had made a mistake with wine list labeling, considering that 2002 was the first commercial vintage from Ravines, but I wondered if there had been a 2001 bottling. And I was excited to find out, because 2001 is among the best red-wine vintages in Finger Lakes history.

Then the following conversation took place after I placed our order:

Staff member: "Oh, sorry, we're not offering wines from our bottle list for the rest of the night."

Me: "Oh. Why is that?"

Staff: "We locked up the bins. But if you want a bottle, you can order either a Belhurst wine or we can sell you four glasses of a wine from our by-the-glass list. That would equal a bottle."

Me, confused: "Uh huh. Is there a reason you don't allow people to order wines on the wine list you provide? I'm just surprised."

Staff: "Well, you can still get a bottle of a wine on our by-the-glass list. We stop selling the bottle list around 10 p.m."

I returned to our group and explained the situation, which engendered a bunch of incredulous looks. After all, their wine list proudly boasts the "Wine Spectator Award of Excellence Sixteen Consecutive Years." I suppose it should be amended to read, "Wine Spectator Award-Winning Wine List from 5-10 p.m; Mass-Produced Wines from 10 p.m. -3 a.m."

And really, the by-the-glass list was just as predictable, boring, and bad as any list you're accustomed to seeing. Twenty wines total, from the usual suspects of large producers (with perhaps an exception or two). I decided to at least ask if they could make an exception and to ask if they could verify the vintage on that Ravines Meritage, which had so piqued my curiosity.

Staff: "Sorry, it's locked."

Me: "Is it possible for you to unlock the bins?"

Staff: "Sorry, we can't."

I wonder if, when they run out of vodka, they run into the same problem with locks. I imagine they find a way to unlock the bin that has the hard stuff.

I chose not to order a glass, but one of our group did. He ordered an Argentinian Malbec, which was served somewhere close to 80 degrees. It had the temperature of bathwater. I would argue that a 90-degree day outside is not an excuse to serve red wine at 80 degrees inside. And this problem is not limited to Belhurst; we ran into the same issue at Esperanza Mansion on Friday night.

I don't mean to be overly critical on this issue, so help me out: Have you ever been to a restaurant or bar - especially one that prides itself on offering high-end service and an award-winning wine list - only to have them decide to lock up the bottle list? And should they have been willing to grab a key and help us out anyway?

June 24, 2010

Friday night, three Finger Lakes wineries will release two new vintages of their cooperative wine, Tierce. But if the goal for the wine is still the same -- Fox Run Vineyards, Red Newt Cellars, and Anthony Road Wine Company each contributing to a singular expression -- the release party will be far different this time around.

The cost per person has been cut from $75 to $25. The menu will feature carefully selected hors d'oeuvres instead of a long and formal dinner. Winemakers will talk about the components and the final product, but there will be plenty of time for attendees to chat and mingle.

Fox Run Vineyards will host the party in the barrel room, with a handful of tickets still available. But marketing director Leslie Kroeger makes an interesting comment, given the overhauled event plans. "We're not making money on this," she says. "Certainly not on the tickets. We hope for Tierce sales, but it's just as important for us to build word-of-mouth and buzz for the wine."

Kroeger is conceding that even with a new focus, this kind of event is not a great source of revenue for the involved parties. She says they've sold about 50 tickets for the 7 p.m. party. Instead of trying to create the perfect formula that generates maximum profit, Kroeger says the Tierce producers have learned lessons from past events.

"If we can use this kind of event to build a reputation and relationships, that's potentially more valuable," she explains. "The old format was a tough sell for many customers. I mean, a four-hour meal in an intimate setting is fantastic for some people, but we wanted to make sure more Tierce fans would attend. We wanted to get as many people there as possible."

Kroeger does not believe there is a simple price limit that customers are willing to pay to attend wine-themed events. After all, Fox Run routinely sells out winemaker dinners in the barrel room at a ticket price of $75.

But Tierce remains a relatively young concept, with the first vintage coming in 2004. Friday night the producers will release the 2007 Tierce, known as Tierce Red because the winemakers chose to make a red blend, along with the 2008 Tierce, another riesling. They expect to continue building a base of interested customers.

Other challenges comes in the growing number of wine-themed events available to customers. More wineries than ever are pairing with local restaurants and farms to offer formal dinners. Most weekends offer some kind of lunch or dinner event, and that's aside from the myriad wine trail events that pair wine with local foods.

We'd love to hear from you: What kind of event convinces you to spend your time and money?